


A Small Talk in the Rose Garden

by Laetitia_Laetitii



Series: Aquilonian Cycle [3]
Category: Runescape
Genre: Aquilonian Cycle, Gen, History of Gielinor, Second Age, Senntisten, Zarosian Empire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-05-28 14:46:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6333223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laetitia_Laetitii/pseuds/Laetitia_Laetitii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Menaphite-Zarosian War, an era comes to an end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Small Talk in the Rose Garden

The hottest hour of the day was almost over. Far beyond the walls of the Divine Palace, the work that had not been ceased for midday went on, and those who had observed a siesta were returning to their tasks. Cartwheels rattled on flagstones while the cart-drivers cursed each other, and merchants declared the praise of their wares over the haggling of their customers.

Deep in the Palace gardens, sheltered by buildings on all four sides, the sound the city made was dimmed to a distant rush. In the maze of brightly tiled paths between the rose bushes even that was gone, and the warm air was heavy with the sweet smell of flowers and the buzz of bumblebees drunk on their nectar.

On a mosaic path two figures were walking along, side by side. The shorter one was a human; a white-haired old man, frail and bent with age. He walked slowly, leaning on a staff, and from time to time his left hand would come up to wipe sweat from his forehead beneath the two-pronged crown. He stuck fast to the shaded side of the path, clinging to whatever relief it could offer from the midday blaze.

The figure beside him, to the contrary, seemed unperturbed by the heat. It was humanoid in shape, though taller and thinner than any human or disguised vyre. The face looking out of its cowl was the colour of gray granite, its features sharp and angular. On its ridged brow rested a thin half-circlet, made of the same purplish metal as the man’s crown.

They were now coming to a junction in the path, and the man had to stop to catch his breath. He looked away from his companion as he did so, as if to conceal his weakness. At length he spoke:

“And your…people…would look after the governing of the new provinces, I understand?”

“That seems to be the Emperor’s wish,” the other one replied. Its voice was low and soft, the pronunciation accented but cultured.

“You seem to have thought this from every angle,” the old man said, his voice faint.

“Your Holiness,” came the answer, “I was under the impression that we agreed on the most important points. It is plain that the Kharidian Province can no longer support all of its population after the…change in conditions, and that we need to make up for the end of wheat imports from the Menaphite lands - Not to mention for the loss in manpower. So, every family that provides the Imperial Army with a recruit gets a settlement in the new provinces, which in turn will produce bread for the entire Empire.”

“And as for the governance…?”

“My fellow Mahjarrat are the most likely appointees.”

“They are. In both military and civilian positions.”

“Which is not to say that most of the bureaucracy would not be handled by humans. There are not so many of us, after all.”

“No.”

The old man’s voice had grown weaker with every sentence, and the last word was hardly more than a sigh. Fifteen heartbeats passed, but his companion did not answer. As if on cue, branches rustled to their left, and from the adjoining path emerged another man. He was young to be wearing the insignia of a Pontifex of his rank, with dark, alert eyes set deep in his pale, expressionless face. If he had been eavesdropping, nothing in his countenance gave away guilt.

“Your Holiness,” he greeted. He pronounced the humanoid’s name, and then turned his attention back to the old man. “I was hoping to find you,” he went on, “as I had something to discuss with you.”

“Valerius,” the old man replied. “What is the matter?”

“It is of a private nature, Your Holiness,” the young priest replied, his smile frozen tight.

“Of course. Do not let me keep you,” said the humanoid. “I will wait nearby.” The corners of its mouth were slightly risen, but never enough to reveal the teeth inside. Nodding a bow to both it turned around, and walked slowly the way it had come.

The priest looked at its retreating back for a few seconds before proffering his arm.

“Allow me, please.” His superior did not reply, but slipped his shaking hand around the younger man's arm. The two made their way to a secluded bench, where the old man sat down while the young one crouched on the ground beside him, clasping a withered hand between his own.

“So it is true?” he asked, all the previous assertion gone from his voice. “It is going to be him?”

“Yes,” the old man replied quietly. “I have every reason to believe that is the Emperor’s intention.” He was silent for a while, and his eyes stared into nothingness as his shallow breaths grew ever more rapid. Then, his voice broken, he asked weakly: “Valerius, please, wet a handkerchief for me. I overestimated my strength coming out today.”

The younger one got quickly on his feet, and strode over to a fountain to soak a silk kerchief from his pocket. As quickly he returned to his companion, and without being bidden wiped down his sweating face.

“It is not the tumour that’s killing me, Valerius,” the old man said. “I thought I had years to go. It is this…this…all my life. The church was ours… that was the understanding. The military and commerce belonged to the Chthonians and the vyres, and the Church was ours.”

“The church is ours,” said the young man bluntly.

“No, child, no. It was. It will not be any more. The Emperor, I have every reason to believe, has made up his mind. It is him, and his kind live as long as the Chthonians.”

“He will not serve as a Cardinal first?”

“No. Speaking of which,  _He_ has made no indication that he will seek to appoint any of them as Cardinals. And while we are on that subject…there is a great amount of talk about who will replace Cardinal Tertius when the time comes. And I hear one name repeated over all the others.” Clasping the young priest’s hand as tightly as he could, he made a laboured effort to smile. Then some pain inside him caused the old man to double over for a few seconds, and despite his best efforts a small sob escaped him. When the pain had subsided he relaxed, and then slowly rose to his feet. “I will now retire for the day,” he said. “Continue your work as always. Keep all this to yourself.”

“I will,” the young man replied, and offering his arm again, lead the two of them to the path where they had met. The gray-faced thing stood some ten feet away from them, apparently studying the blossoms of a rose bush. It turned around as they re-emerged, but whether it was looking at them was impossible to tell. The eyes of its kind were black from eyelid to eyelid, and showed nothing. How good their hearing was, no-one knew.

“His Holiness will retire now,” the young priest said curtly. “I will escort him to his quarters.”

“Of course,” came the thing’s reply. “It is only natural.” What it thought, neither its voice nor its face betrayed. It bowed, ever so slightly.  
“Good day to you both.”


End file.
